Little Buddy
by PsychoWithATophat
Summary: The gang's Claptrap gets hurt and nobody really cares. Except for one Scav with minimal repair experience!
1. A Friend!

The Scav crossed his legs in front of the Claptrap unit, grumbling "Okay, Little Buddy, I got you." as his hand gripped the top corner of the robot's head to keep the fella upright as he worked.

The Claptrap had been conscious, wheel pressing against the man's crossed legs, but barely in the Scav's lap. He was trying to be patient for his new-found, masked, friend but this was a little uncomfortable. His inner mechanisms wanted to scream, "yes! A friend!" but he'd have to be still as the Scav repaired him. The Scav glanced at the unit's eye. Though he couldn't see it from the Scav's mask, he knew the guy was making a face at him.

The Scav was repairing the unit's casing, he had a bullet punch a huge hole in his case, just below his eye, but it seemed like too much interior damage had been done. Since the man wasn't exactly a mechanist, he had to leave the unit one-armed... He could try to get help from his teammates, but they were unpredictable. Every other psycho would leave the blast open and roll their eyes if the unit asked for help.

The man put so much time and effort into both being gentle with the robot, and trying to blend the repair in with the unit's pastel paint. When you live in muck without care, your paint became less than pretty.

The only reason the unit got shot was he'd had an accidental run-in with a Darksider gang member.

He thought he was done for, but turns out one of his teammates was looking after him. Like a masked guardian angel. But more bloody. (The best kind!)

The unit pulled his arm up and slowly placed his hand on the Skag's wrist, which stopped him more effectively than any words. Truthfully, he had no idea how the man would react. He could be a psycho, for all he knows.

The Scav looked up at the Claptrap. "Yeah, Little Buddy? You sore?" He asked, lifting his head.

A few seconds had passed and the unit couldn't find any words in him. But he had to say something. This was about the only person that cared about him.

"I'm sorry," his default, cheery voice rung. He wished he didn't sound so enthusiastic all the time, especially now. "For the trouble."

The Scav was silent for a moment, expressionless to the unit. However, after a second, he chuckled in his surprisingly smooth voice. "Polite fella, ain't you? You're okay, Bud."


	2. Gunshots and an excuse

It was awhile, a few hours, after the Claptrap promised to find a reward for the man and zoomed off without second thought.

He figured the machine would be scrap before it found whatever it was looking for.

The Scav bunched together with two others. A shorter man with hair long enough to wrap around his neck two times and a giant heavily armored man.

He was usually accompanied with a man named Griever, an obviously self-named man. This name was quite ironic on account of his long, ginger hair and short height. (But quite taller than a tiny Scav.) He wore a hand-printed psycho mask and crappily made armor. Newton had met Griever on his first day as a gang member.

The other fellow he would have around at almost all times was named Penn. He was heavily equipped, like an Outlaw; head to toe, and it was rare for any of the Scavengers to remove armor casually. Newton had never seen Penn's face before. He was kind of a menacing presence, towering above most in the gang.

"Newt-y, buddayy," Griever started with a nudge to Newt's arm. "I saw you sneaking off someplace during eatin' hours. Either you're tryna avoid us or you're meetin with a chick."

Penn shook his head slowly, adding "Bros before hoes, that's our rule. You know that."

Newton shoved Griever. "Hey! Are you guys stalking me or something? I'm not seein any hoes, nor am I avoiding you guys. I just had to..." He paused. "Piss."

He mentally slapped himself as Penn made a quiet chuckle.

Griever snickered. "Long piss, then."

"Don't be childish, man!" Newton frowned.

"Okay, okay. I'll keep my eye on you, though. You aren't off the hook just yet!" Griever grinned.

"Stop stal-"

Newton was immediately interrupted by a familiar robotic shriek and gunshots in the distance. He winced at the sound, feeling a little guilty for not chacing the small robot as it fled from him.


End file.
